Late Festivus / Early Christmas Edition

With Festivus behind us, the Airing of Grievances and the Feats of Strength both aired and feated, time to tuck in and ride out the rest of the holidays. To you and yours the happiest of days, the best of food, secular or religious or anywhere in between.

I have some year-end posts in the hopper, including a Next Big Thing post (insert laughtrack laughter here), a post archiving the Bookshelf page for 2012, and as well the highlight reel post of my favorite reads. (Which was no easy feat, let me tell you! Lot of good books this year.)

As the year ends, it’s not surprising that I’m thinking about next year, and what I want to do and get done. Keeping in mind a VP lecture about focusing on what you can control instead of what you can’t, I’ve been making a different sort of list.

I’m going to hit 200,000 words written this year, not counting the blog or journaling or anything. Just fiction. I am very happy about that. Best year until now, and since keeping records, was 140,000 words back in 2010 and that had a lot to do with a winning NaNoWriMo month. I hadn’t even thought it possible until I ran the sums and realized how close I was and then I couldn’t not chase that number down. But it can’t just be about production anymore. Not for 2013. And that’s got me nervous. I can measure drafting, I can see the progress, the steady accumulation. I have one urban fantasy novel draft and I’m closing in on the last third of the gothic werewolf novel rewrite. (Hit 55K the other day.)

But drafting is the easy (easier) part, isn’t it?

I’m starting at a bundle of looseleaf sheets held together with a criss-cross of rubber bands. Atop it are some sticky notes and a red pen. That’s the urban fantasy, which has been cooling since the end of September. We’re at the part where it’s not allowed to suck anymore, or at the very least, I have to make it not suck. Or suck less.

I have been meaning to get to that read-thru for the last month or so now. It’s been long enough that the ideas and events are vague, so I shouldn’t be too invested. In my more romantic moments I think it might not even be that bad. But I remember how shaken and disappointed I was when I re-read the previous draft of Blood of Wolves, to realize how fundamentally broken the damn thing was and what a fool I’d been to think it was good. (It had potential, possibly, but good it wasn’t, and no where near ready.)

Am I still the fool? Only one way to know. And why wait for the New Year? I’ve got some reading to do. Eat a cookie for me and send vibes. Festivus give me strength!

PS: This little fella was my gift bag to the members of the Underground Writers group. We meet weekly, discuss our progress, our goals, and critique, and each year we get together for a little fun. Last year I got them each Moleskine cahier and 7-year pens. This year with the ‘Apocalypse’ coming I made up these gift bags to weather the end of the world and still write: a bottle of booze to soothe the soul, candle and matches for when the power goes out, and the Writer’s Block. We exchanged presents, ate pizza, drank and played Aye, Dark Overlord. A good time was had by all! Love these guys!